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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254531">Swallowed in the Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaUrie/pseuds/HelenaUrie'>HelenaUrie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Mentioned Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), no one dies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:22:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaUrie/pseuds/HelenaUrie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you ever listened to the mourning doves crying at sunbreak?” Dream began tentatively. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Dream clutched his hands together, steeling himself for the next words. Given his upbringing, he’d never been good at comfort, but he hoped whatever he said would bring a small measure of peace.</p><p>---</p><p>In which, by Dream's first breath, his fate was sealed. In twenty years, he'd be cast to the endless waves, never again to be seen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Swallowed in the Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBri/gifts">HoneyBri</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for an AMAZING friend &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The child had been born with no eyes.</p><p>After the first glance of the newborn, his mother threw her head back and howled in despair, while his father's legs sagged and he knelt to the floor, trembling with grief.</p><p>The child had been born with no eyes.</p><p>By his first breath, his fate was sealed. In twenty years, he'd be cast to the endless waves, never again to be seen.</p><p>While the children learned to work the fields, the child hummed to the sound of the wind. While the children held their breaths in the shallow river near the Village, the child was never taught to swim—after all, the Village had to make sure their sacrifice to the Matriarch would always drown. A drowned soul was the only way to free the cursed prisoner in the deep.</p><p>While the children exposed their faces, the child wore a mask to hide his lack of eyes; the Village, needing able-bodied men to ensure its survival, had already doomed him for his disability, and the child didn't need others to rub that fact in.</p><p>With a white mask that portrayed a smile, the child could maintain a bit of normalcy.</p><p>And so the child lived, waiting. Later, his parents gave birth to normal siblings—two sisters and a brother who treated him with kindness and were his respite from the discrimination of the outside world. There was also Sapnap, the Village elder's beloved grandson, who had unexpectedly befriended the child after hearing him sing—something the other Villagers never did, for it was too useless.</p><p>It was Sapnap who gave the child a name: Dream. Before, Dream was just the “Child”—after all, he was destined to be nothing but a sacrifice. So, against the cruel titles others cast at him, the name stuck. It was even fitting, really, since the eyeless boy was another step toward the Village's return to the endless blue waves, and thus a physical representation of the Village's own aspirations.</p><p>(And, well... at the moment, just for a few brief days, Sapnap did find something excruciatingly attractive in the outcast; that "Dream" could have meant his own fever dream, too.)</p><p>Every afternoon, the Village elder's grandson would sneak away and join Dream near his family's fields, where Dream would sit with his handcrafted instrument—something he called a "guitar".</p><p>"Dream, you're so smart, but you're also so weird," Sapnap would say every time Dream plucked his "guitar" and hummed a tune. "But you're cool, though. Cooler than all those other kids."</p><p>Under his mask, Dream would smile and give a brief nod, and keep on humming.</p><p>For a while, Sapnap was Dream's only friend outside his family. Dream would sit on the creaking stairs at the back of the family cottage, singing simple melodies that rode a gentle afternoon breeze, and Sapnap would lie in the grass with his eyes closed, listening. Yet as they grew, Sapnap's responsibilities increased and the two saw each other less and less; the Village elder was becoming ill, and the young man needed to lead his people. Dream remained, his shadow now alone, becoming more lost in nature and sound as his solitude took hold.</p><p>That was how Dream met George—in the eternal darkness, crickets chirping in the twilight, accompanied by soft guitar strings.</p>
<hr/><p>"Hi, um... May—may I sit here?"</p><p>Almost dramatically, the guitar stopped; the fingers twitched, startled. He'd heard the newcomer's footsteps, of course—they weren't exactly quiet—but it was surprising that they'd stopped in front of him nonetheless.</p><p>"Yes, of course," Dream replied with not more than a whisper after recovering from his initial shock. The hesitance had been evident in the stranger's voice; Dream had never heard this particular voice before, nor the accent (although he'd never left the Village before, so he really can't say much about the latter.) If anything, he had to indulge his curiosity. But he was also afraid; there was always someone who went out of their way to mock him. Being a stranger only made it easier.</p><p>The stairs let out an aching groan as the stranger set down his weight on the misshaped wooden boards. Dream clutched his guitar tighter, trying to steel himself for anything that might come.</p><p>"Hi, um... I'm a hired hand, new next door, I came from a place very far away—it's a long story, you probably don't want to hear it."</p><p>Ah, so that explains the accent and the voice. But the voice was so… young. Almost Dream’s age, it seemed.</p><p>“You work for Philza?”</p><p>"Yeah. I was working in the fields and I heard a nice sound from far away. I came closer and saw you, singing with your instrument. No one else seems to do this around here, and I've missed hearing music. I, uh..."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Oh, please don't take this wrong—I don't want to sound like a creep—but I've been watching you for the whole day. You're amazing."</p><p>Under his mask, Dream let out a smile.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>The two fell into companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, Dream's guitar singing a few notes once in a while as a distant bird tweeted its final melody for the day. The newcomer watched the last sliver of the sun fall behind the distant mountains and take the brilliant, blazing magenta sky with it, and then the lonely moon rise, and counted the masked teenager yawn one, two, three times while the songs faded away. </p><p>"Well, I suppose I should go inside now," the Dream told the newcomer.</p><p>"Alright. Thank you for letting me listen—I hope I can come here again. Have a good night."</p><p>"Thanks. You as well." He hoisted his guitar, made to get up—</p><p>"Wait!"</p><p>A warm, silken hand grabbed him firmly by the bare arm, preventing him from leaving. The hand was almost too soft to belong to a farmboy, but in that moment, that wasn’t important. The touch tingled, shot up his spine, momentarily rendered his feet useless—</p><p>"I wanted to ask you earlier but I forgot—what's your name?"</p><p>The masked teenager’s heart lurched in surprise.</p><p>"Dr—Dream," he stammered, his mouth dry.</p><p>"Great! My name is George. I'll see you tomorrow, at the same time?"</p><p>"Of course— of course."</p>
<hr/><p>A few years passed under lazy clouds and decent harvests; the Village waited to return to the misty shore and bellowing waves that had driven them away so long ago. George and Dream would sit together at twilights, well into the night; they were two lonely souls seeking each other’s company, discussing matters shallow and deep. </p><p>“There’s, what, three colors in the world? Yes, three.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose I’m not missing out on too much then,” Dream chuckled, his light voice ringing into the fields.</p><p>“But they’re presented in various degrees of intensity. It’s still beautiful, Dream—I wish you could see it all.” </p><p>The masked man sighed, and suddenly there was a despondent air about him. His shoulders, previously held relaxed but high, suddenly stooped, as if crushed by the reminder of something solemn and unavoidable.</p><p>"Yes,” he paused, “I'd like to, George. Before I go, I'd like to."</p><p>Silence. Dream heard George shift, could almost confirm that the man had tensed and turned to peer directly at his mask. </p><p>“What do you mean, ‘go’?” </p><p>Dream didn’t dare answer.</p><p>“What do you mean?” George repeated, leaning closer, his voice more demanding, grabbing Dream’s wrist. Again, Dream did not respond. A flicker of realization came alive in George’s eyes.</p><p>“Does this have something to do with a sacrifice to some Matriarch? I know the tale. I’ve heard the whispers. You’re not allowed near the river. That’s why you stay here, right? Because you’re not supposed to learn how to swim?”</p><p>Dream let in a quick breath; shook his head rapidly, though under his mask, his cheeks turned red.</p><p>“I know you’re lying, Dream. Am I right? Please?” Desperation began to grip George’s voice. </p><p>Dream reluctantly nodded, pulling away from George’s grip. He put his hands in his lap, turning his head in the opposite direction from his friend, unable to face the situation. George sat in turbulent silence, his body shaking.</p><p>“What would I do without you? Forget about the colors—you’re the only beautiful thing in the world.” His voice was strained, and inwardly Dream winced; he didn’t want to hurt his best remaining friend, nor had he expected George’s feelings to run so… intensely, especially when the man didn’t even know what Dream looked like under the mask. Yet there was also a small bit of satisfaction; he’d thought that, with his enigma of an appearance, his boyish crush was unrequited. He didn’t want to trouble George nonetheless.</p><p>“Have you ever listened to the mourning doves crying at sunbreak?” Dream began tentatively. </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>Dream clutched his hands together, steeling himself for the next words. Given his upbringing, he’d never been good at comfort, but he hoped whatever he said would bring a small measure of peace.</p><p>“But have you really <em> listened? </em>Every morning’s coo is a reminder of my impending doom, but it’s so soothing that my death almost seems alright. Listen to the birds, the crickets, the hushed wind, the trees. Really, listen, George—I’ll leave this guitar for you when I’m gone, and you can play it when a breeze whistles through the fields. Maybe play it next to the river, too, and carry some tunes downstream, and I’ll listen through the water… Anyways. George, the world’s beauty is encompassed not only in sight, but also in sound. Your life won’t be stark without me—just follow your ears and you’ll never be alone, alright?” </p><p>“But I didn’t mean your appearance! Or your songs! I meant… <em> you! </em>” If anything, George only sounded more grieved.</p><p>“...Oh. I misunderstood. I’m… I’m sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be.” George let out a wet chuckle and wrapped an arm around Dream’s back, bringing the younger man to lean his head on his shoulder. “You… you sounded pretty poetic, actually.” </p><p>The man paused, considering his words.</p><p>“I’m in love with your <em> soul </em>, Dream. Nothing in this world can compare to that. There’s a light there that few can see—you know, all those years ago, only you and Philza had welcomed me, an orphaned prince from a fallen empire, into this village. You gave me another purpose, rekindled my will. I love you, Dream, and it would destroy me to see your light extinguished.”</p><p>For the first time in a lifetime, Dream felt George’s arms wrapped around the small of his back—they were almost awkwardly lanky but also absurdly warm, and gave him comfort that he feared he wouldn’t be able to reciprocate.</p><p>“Promise me you’ll never leave?”</p><p>“I… I love you too, George, but I can’t promise you anything.”</p>
<hr/><p>“George?”</p><p>“Yes?” </p><p>“I have to make a confession.” Dream desperately leaned closer into George, seeking the young man’s body heat. Winter was settling in, and the twilights were beginning to grow cold, but the thoughts in his mind made him more frigid than any north draft. </p><p>"It's—” Dream sucked in a breath, then tried again in his wavering voice, “it's my 20th birth day soon. I don't want to die, George. I don't want to die." </p><p>George held Dream tighter; Dream could almost feel George’s breaths brushing the side of his cheek. </p><p>“Don’t go.”</p><p>"I have to go, George. For this village… For you." He sighed in resignation. “If I don’t, the Matriarch will send the dark tides inland to drown us all. Even you wouldn’t be able to escape this time.”</p><p>"Do you <em>really</em> believe those legends? Believe me, the real way this Village will fall is through man, not nature. You would sooner tear yourselves apart than be lost to some 'Matriarch'. I've lived through this, Dream!"</p><p>"I have to go, George." Doubt was already settling in his bones, but Dream knew what he had to do.</p><p>"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!" </p><p>The shout rang loud and clear through the now-barren fields. Before he could tear his arm away, Dream felt something warm fall on the back of his hand, something that slid off quickly—a fat, heavy tear, he dimly realized with an echoing pang in his heart. George harshly grabbed his hands, pulled him down.</p><p>“No—no. You’re not going anywhere without me. Don’t you <em> dare </em>.” George tried to hold firm, but his cracking voice betrayed his panic. </p><p>“I won’t let you sacrifice your life just for me!” </p><p>George didn’t reply, but Dream could <em> feel </em> him thinking. The slender fingers around his hand squeezed harder, painful with growing excitement. Before Dream could make any further inquiries, George piped up,</p><p>"We'll run away. I'll pack my belongings, leave a note to Philza. You know those fields over the mountain? We'll start a new life there," George whispered, his wet breaths quickening in anticipation. "You and I, in a cottage next to those golden hills. Dream and George, never to be found again!"</p><p>"What—why?" Behind his mask, a glimmer of hope rose on Dream's face, but fear simultaneously sank his heart. In all its decades, no one from the Village had ever dared to venture farther inland, into the unknown; would George really be willing to do this?</p><p>George’s fingers, now calloused but still radiating heat, tenderly touched the sides of Dream’s cheeks.</p><p>"Because you belong with me, not swallowed in the sea." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... it's been a wild year. @HoneyBri, I just want to thank you for being an AMAZING friend, for listening to me rant about everything going on in my life (school, family, etc.)(POG THROUGH THE PAINNNNN), and for talking so much about the Dream Team. You're so kind, talented, and patient and I love you lots! </p><p>Also, thanks to Coldplay for letting me steal their song title :)</p><p>Not beta-read; all mistakes are my own. I'm not a great writer, but hopefully this is okay  ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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